


Picking Favorites

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing, Life After Hogwarts, M/M, Masturbation, Owls, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: Draco’s owl hates him, but loves Harry. It’s a problem. Until it’s not.





	Picking Favorites

It was early on a Thursday morning and Harry was trudging up the snow-covered stairs to the owlery, his well-worn trainers providing him with little traction during his icy ascent. The sky was a softened blue with peach and dusty pink streaked throughout, as though paint had been swirled together, the morning sun peaking over the Forbidden Forest, casting a golden glow that slowly expanded over the grounds. Harry was entranced, he never got tired of this view. 

After the war, a new owlery had been built, the owls now provided with cosy living quarters that far surpassed some of the dormitories. With all the change Harry had endured over the past year, Harry was hesitant to use the new owlrey. 

When Hedwig had been killed, Harry thought he would never get another owl. He contemplated getting a cat instead, or even going without an animal at all. Yet, when he visited Diagon several months ago, something had caught his eye in the window of Eeylops Owl Emporium. The window was filled with owls, ones with a snowy white coat that resembled Hedwig’s plumage far too closely, a large one with black feathers and piercing blue eyes, little tan ones that look barely more than a few weeks old, and finally, Harry saw him. 

He was smaller than most, light grey feathers covering his plump body with speckles of black and white spread throughout in a delicate pattern. He was perched on a small platform, cleaning his feathers diligently, the grey of his coat almost appearing silver as he moved. Harry had stepped closer to the window, trying to get him to look up. When he finally did, Harry saw that the owl had eyes that were a warm hazel, something about the steadiness of his gaze reminding him oddly of Sirius. Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat and entered the shop. He left minutes later with his owl in tow, the knots that had built up in his spine for weeks easing as Harry pet the soft curve of the owl’s back. 

On Harry’s first day back at Hogwarts his feet carried him instinctively to the old owlrey, the space empty, void of the rustle of feathers and the click of claws against stone perches. Despite it’s eerie silence, there was something comforting about the room. Being back up there brought a sense of calm over Harry. 

The old owlrey quickly became his escape from the rest of the castle. On days where he felt overwhelmed and on the verge of a panic attack, he headed up winding staircase, leaning against the cool stone walls and letting himself breathe. It was his sanctuary as much as it was his owl’s.

It took Harry several days to find a name that suited him, but he finally settled on Cathal.

That morning as Harry rounded the corner into the owlrey he was greeted by Cathal, his feathers tickling Harry’s cheek when he landed gracefully on Harry’s shoulder. “Hey, you.”

Harry brought his hand up, attempting to run a finger over the swell of Cathal’s small head. Clearly Cathal had other ideas, nipping at Harry’s knuckle, eyes wide and curious. “Oi, have a little patience,” Harry commented, letting out a huff of laughter and digging his free hand into his pocket to pull out a bit of food for him. Cathal abandoned his finger and ate eagerly out of his hand instead, getting every last crumb as Harry looked at him fondly. “You are spoiled, you know that?”

Cathal nuzzled Harry affectionately for a moment, letting out a soft noise before he flew to one of the perches located on the opposite wall. Harry let out a deep sigh, his breath fogging up his glasses in the chilled winter air. He took them off for a moment, using the edge of his jumper to wipe them clean again. 

As Harry made to slide his glasses back onto his face, he heard the crunch of ice and snow coming from behind him, nimble footsteps trailing up the staircase toward the owlrey. Harry pulled his wand out of the pocket of his denims, unsure of who would want to come up to the abandoned owlrey, particularly this early in the morning. Most students were fast asleep or just barely stirring at this time. 

Harry heard hushed talking as the footsteps came closer, and he wondered if there was more than one person heading toward him. Before Harry had time to hypothesize who was about to round the corner, a head of perfectly coiffed blond hair stepped into view, Draco Malfoy entering the owlrey with an exceptionally large owl perched inside a silver birdcage. 

Draco didn’t appear to notice him at first. He was far too preoccupied with the owl he was carrying, and Harry could see why. The bird was stunning. It was quite a bit larger than Hedwig had ever been, thick layers of deep chestnut colored feathers covering its body, a set of white markings surrounding the eyes in a detailed mask. The bird turned toward him, it’s eyes a vibrant green that were strikingly similar to Harry’s own eyes. 

Just when Harry was about to open his mouth and say something, Draco glanced up and let out a sound of distress, his whole body jerking as he met Harry’s gaze. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry replied, annoyance creeping into his voice, “There is a fancy new owlrey back toward the rest of the castle. I can’t imagine why you would be bringing your owl here.”

Draco set his owl down on the small writing block that sat in the center of the room, glaring over at Harry as he adjusted his robes around his slim shoulders, his long neck somehow appearing even longer beneath the high collar of the robes. “I see no reason to use the new owlrey. It’s over-crowded and full of first-years and pathetic girls crying over their breakups.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked, not sure what to say. He agreed with Draco’s summary of the new owlrey and had no desire to use it either. 

“Yes. It is.” 

Harry simply nodded, watching as Draco unlatched the door of the birdcage, reaching in to coax his owl out. Instead of simply exiting the cage, the bird snapped at Draco, cutting into his finger with its sharp beak before it flew over toward where Cathal was perched. 

Draco swore, blood pouring out of his finger and onto his robes, the gash deep and throbbing. “Fucking stupid bird, idiotic little shit...” he trailed off, biting his lip as he reached for his wand. 

Then Harry stepped forward, pushing away Draco’s wand arm and silently wrapping his fingers around Draco’s wrist. Harry’s touch felt like the heat from a furnace, his touch immediately warming Draco’s own chilled hands. Draco opened his mouth to protest when Harry touched the tip of his wand just below the cut, a drop of blood catching on Harry’s wand as he held it there. Harry shushed him and began muttering spells beneath his breath while Draco watched with fascination, the bright red drop of his blood trailing over the wooden surface of Harry’s wand, following the grooves down toward the base. Draco felt a twinge of pain and hissed, the gash shrinking in size as it was stitched up with Harry’s spellwork. 

After a while, Harry looked up at Draco, his glasses slightly askew on his face, his shaggy black hair falling indelicately across Harry’s face. “That’s about all I can do for now. It’s still… Well, it’s still bleeding quite a bit. I can’t seem to get that to stop.”

“Right.”

Harry gaze faltered and he took a step back, releasing his grip on Draco’s hand. “You need something to suppress the bleeding, especially if you don’t plan on heading to Pomfrey.” 

Draco then watched with horror as Harry’s hands moved to the edge of his jumper, tugging the knit fabric off his head and knocking his glasses even more wonky than they were before. Harry was left standing in just a ragged undershirt, the grey fabric looking well-worn, a few holes dotting the fabric so that Harry’s tanned skin was visible beneath the material. 

Harry stripped the undershirt off as well, and Draco’s breath caught in his throat, his skin growing hot and clammy at the sight. Draco felt as though he was watching in slow motion, Harry's muscles flexing as he pulled the thin fabric off, every inch of Harry’s tanned skin glowing as the morning light poured in through the entryway. 

Harry exuded an easy sort of sensuality that Draco envied greatly, Harry’s ratty denims hanging low on his hips, his nipples pebbled and hard from the cold air, dark hair covering his chest with a dense trail leading down below the waistband of his trousers. Draco was at a complete loss for words. 

Draco simply stood there like a dolt while Harry stepped toward him once more, reaching for Draco and wrapping his undershirt methodically around Draco’s finger and hand. He moved with such confidence and surety, as though he had done this a thousand times prior. He tied a small knot at the end of the shirt and then let go of Draco. Harry spoke as he pulled his jumper back on over his head, finally adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his unkempt hair, “That should keep the bleeding at a minimum. If it bleeds through that, go to Pomfrey. Or...uh, you know, find someone else’s shirt to wrap around it.”

Harry was giving him a strange look, glancing over toward Draco’s owl and then back at him, whilst Draco remained silent. “What’s her name?”

“Nathalie.”

“She’s beautiful,” Harry commented, walking over toward her. 

“She’s a right pain in the arse, is what she is.” Draco replied bitterly, watching her closely as Harry approached and wondering whether Potter was about to get another scar to match the one on his forehead. “Approach at your own risk. I’m not responsible for any injuries she may inflict.”

Harry snorted and stepped in front of Nathalie, reaching out a hand just as Draco had earlier. To Draco’s surprise, Nathalie leaned in and nudged Harry’s hand with her head, closing her wide eyes and letting out a low sound. “How the fuck are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Draco waved his hand glaring at Nathalie as she continued to rub against Harry as though trying to scent him. “She’s - She’s not biting you! Or scratching or -” 

“- Or attempting to murder me?” Harry finished, a smirk stretched across his face as he glanced over at Draco. 

“Oh, fuck you.” Draco slammed the door of Nathalie’s birdcage shut, the sound startling Harry’s own owl and causing her to hop onto Harry’s shoulder, leaning into the side of his neck. 

Harry turned fully toward Draco and Nathalie stepped onto Harry’s forearm, looking over at Draco as though attempting to tell him in no uncertain terms that she had picked a new owner. 

The prat looked like some sort of Forest God. Two owls were using Harry as their own personal tree, his face was dotted with dark stubble, his hair perpetually wild, and the olive undertone made his tanned skin glow.

“So, did you come up here just to let her out, or did you actually have a letter to send?

Draco flushed, tearing his eyes away and reaching into the pocket of his robe, waving a roll of parchment at Harry, “Letter. Although, she is clearly in no mood to do me any favors right now. I’m fairly certain she’s disowned me.”

Harry laughed, a warm sound that made Draco’s skin feel hot even in the icy weather. “I can try, if you’d like. Maybe she’ll send it for me.”

Draco nearly let his pride take over, wishing he had another option than to accept Harry’s offer, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. “Fine.”

He handed Harry the roll of parchment and watched as Harry held it out, Nathalie sticking her foot out obediently, though her gaze was fixed on Draco. Draco’s own owl was mocking him. 

“Where to?” 

Draco shook his head, refocusing on Harry’s voice, “What?”

“Where does she need to deliver this letter?”

“Oh,” Draco swallowed harshly, avoiding Harry’s gaze and suddenly wishing that he could take back this entire encounter. “It’s… It’s going to my mother. Narcissa Malfoy, her address is -”

“Malfoy Manor, right?” Harry interrupted.

Something painful clenched in Malfoy’s gut, his heart stuttering at Harry’s words, “No, actually. The Manor was taken from us after the war.” Harry’s eyes widened, an emotion Draco couldn’t place stirring behind his eyes. “She’s at St. Mungo's.”

Harry hesitated before he responded to this, “She…Is she okay?”

“She will be.”

Harry nodded and turned back to Nathalie, tying the parchment to her leg and telling her the address before she flew away. 

They both stood in silence for a moment, avoiding one another’s gaze. When Draco eventually let his eyes wander back over to Harry, he noticed that Harry’s owl was still sitting on his shoulder. “What is it’s name?”

“Oh, him?” Harry gestured to the owl, “This is Cathal. He’s very friendly and not quite as stubborn as Nathalie. But he is fairly greedy when it comes to food and attention...Would you like to pet him?”

Draco wasn't exactly in the mood to get rejected by another bird, so he declined. “I really should be getting back to the castle. I’m working as an assistant to Professor Amordee for her third year Potions lessons, and I have some prep-work I need to get done.”

“How fancy of you.” Harry commented, raising an eyebrow at Draco, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Some of us are actually talented at something beyond Quidditch.”

“And so very _humble too_.”

“I'm simply stating the truth.”

Harry rolled his eyes, petting Cathal and placing him back on his perch. “Get your finger checked out at some point, yeah?”

“I might.”

“Malfoy, just go to Pomfrey, she’ll give you something to take and then you can leave. It’s quick.”

“I know how the hospital wing works, Potter.”

“Well, then use it!”

Draco shook his head, struggling to suppress a smile. There was something so grounding about arguing with Harry. “We’ll see.” And with that, Draco exited the owlrey, taking in a deep breath and letting the cold air fill his lungs, though he was hardly feeling the effects of the cold, his heart beating quickly, his body feeling warm in a way it hadn’t felt in a long time.

****

Several days later Harry was sitting the Great Hall, listening to Neville and Dean talk through their Arithmancy homework, a furrow forming between Neville’s brow with every passing minute.

“But I thought that Professor Dalca said…Shit, am I doing this all wrong?!”

Harry took a long sip of pumpkin juice, casting a sympathetic glance at Neville. 

A shrill cry came from above Harry’s head. When he looked up he saw the blur of chestnut colored feathers, Nathalie swooping down from the rafters with a parchment clutched in her beak. Harry watched as Nathalie dove, soaring past Draco’s head and instead landing directly in front of Harry, dropping the parchment neatly onto his half-eaten piece of toast.

Harry reached out a hand and gently stroked Nathalie’s head, looking over toward the Slytherin table and attempting to meet Draco’s eyes. Draco appeared to be deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson, the sharp line of her black bob reflecting the severe edge of her jaw. She was beautiful in a terrifying sort of way. Draco took a sip of his drink, and Pansy swiped a spare drop of pumpkin juice from the corner of his mouth with the one of her perfectly manicured fingers. Harry quickly averted his gaze, annoyance building inside him as his mind replayed the easy way with which Pansy had touched Draco’s face. 

When Harry finished his toast, he gave Nathalie a final stroke of her feathers and then walked determinedly over to the Slytherin house table, Nathalie soaring back out of the Great Hall above him. 

“I believe this is yours?” Harry held out the letter to Draco, interrupting a conversation he had started with Blaise Zabini. 

Draco looked from Harry to the letter before a murderous scowl came over his face. “What the fuck are you doing with my mail, Potter?” he spat at Harry, yanking the letter out of Harry’s grasp and clutching it like a life-line. 

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco’s indignation, “Have you already forgotten? Your owl hates you, but it apparently _loves_ me. Honestly, I don’t blame her. She clearly has good taste.”

Draco rose out of his seat, his eyes narrowed, the pupils dark and spreading. “Get away from me, you prat.”

Harry held up his hands in mock-surrender, “As you wish. But maybe if you weren’t such a bloody arsehole, your owl would actually deliver your mail directly to you.”

Draco’s friends were all laughing at this exchange, though it was unclear precisely who they were laughing at. Harry made to turn away when he heard a soft hiss, “Did you read it?”

Harry met Draco’s gaze, noting that the anger had faded somewhat, replaced with an unmistakable emotion: fear. 

“Did you?” Draco asked again, panic creeping into his voice as he whispered, eyes darting down to his friends nervously. 

Harry considered him for a moment before he replied, “No. ‘Course not. I wouldn’t.” Draco’s eyes fluttered closed for an instant in relief, and he nodded once before sitting back down, not looking back up at Harry but instead slipping the letter safely inside his robes and returning to conversation with his fellow Slytherins.

****

“Are you having a fucking laugh?”

Draco clenched his fists at his side and watched as Nathalie snuggled up against Potter’s owl, ignoring Draco entirely. 

“I need you to send this letter. Just one letter. If you’ll just let me -” Draco reached out toward Nathalie, but she merely stepped backward, her green eyes glancing at Draco as though she had more important things to attend to. “Oh, fuck you!”

“Hmmm, I can’t right now. But maybe after Defense?” A voice called from behind Draco. 

When Draco turned around and saw Harry, he couldn’t decide how he felt. Relief, anger, and arousal all stirred inside Draco, his mouth going dry as he processed what Harry had said. 

“Excuse me?”

Harry smirked as he entered fully into the owlrey. He held out a hand toward Draco, and for a moment Draco truly thought Potter was asking to hold his hand. 

When Draco didn’t move, Harry gently tugged the letter out of Draco’s grasp, “Need me to mail this?”

“I don’t need you to do anything, Potter,” Draco replied automatically, lifting his chin in defiance.

Harry chuckled softly beneath his breath, “Right. So that’s why you’ve been swearing at your owl for the past 10 minutes?”

“I - I do not _need_ your assistance,” Draco huffed. “But since you’re offering, be my guest.”

Draco watched as Harry held out the letter toward the pair of owls. Nathalie let out a noise of acknowledgement and then stepped forward, holding out her leg for him. Harry tied the parchment around her leg before glancing back toward Draco, “St. Mungo’s?”

He nodded in response, and soon Nathalie was soaring out of the owlrey, Cathal following after her, leaving Harry and Draco alone.

“I think they’ve grown quite fond of one another,” Draco commented. 

“Considering that I caught them trying to _fuck_ the other night, I’d say that’s an understatement.”

The sharp release of air on the ‘k’ of ‘fuck’ sent something shivering down Draco’s spine, his cock twitching with interest inside his trousers.

“Are you being serious?”

Harry laughed once more, an easy natural sound that made Draco forget that they typically hated one another. “I wouldn’t make that up. It was rather disturbing, if I’m being honest.”

“Did you at least stop them?”

“I didn’t want to intrude!”

Draco tried to smack Harry, but missed. “I swear, if Nathalie gets pregnant, I’m going to be so fucking pissed, Potter. We don’t need more of her flying around! Her baby would probably hate me too.” 

Harry simply continued to laugh, ducking when Draco chucked a crumpled ball of parchment at his head. 

When the laughter had died down, a tension began to build between them, Draco’s shoulders tightening uncomfortably as he fought against the question that was threatening to burst out of him. Harry looked over at him, catching his gaze, the deep emerald of his eyes tugging at Draco’s gut. The words were falling from his lips before he could stop them, “Did you mean what you said earlier? About us fucking?”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Draco’s question. He opened his mouth as if to reply, and then paused. When he finally spoke, he looked as though he was choosing his words with extreme care, speaking slowly, “Do you want me to mean it?”

Draco glared in Harry’s direction, “You’re avoiding my question, you prat.”

A beat passed. All Draco could hear for a moment was the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. 

Then Harry spoke, “Yes.”

“What?” Draco’s heart began beating more rapidly, his pulse jumping. “Was that ‘Yes, I meant it’ or ‘Yes, I am avoiding your question?’” 

Draco heard Harry let out an unsteady breath, his dirty trainers coming into Draco’s field of vision as Harry stepped in front of him. “Yes to both.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

_Yes to both. Yes to both. Yes to both._

_Yes._

The words repeated in Draco’s mind, circling him, surrounding him, until he could barely process what they meant anymore. He felt a flush rising to his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Potter had just admitted that he wanted to fuck Draco. 

“I think I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright,” Harry said tentatively, his voice breaking the pattern of words in Draco’s mind, allowing him to focus instead on the man standing in front of him. 

“Well, go on then,” Draco replied expectantly. 

A slight smile took over Harry’s lips and then he was leaning in, his lips pressing against Draco’s own. His lips were softer than Draco had imagined, and they were exceptionally warm, just like the rest of Harry. 

After a moment, Draco let out a breath, kissing Harry back. 

They kissed effortlessly, moving and tilting as though they were one person. Harry let out little hums and sighs as they kissed, his hands trailing mindlessly over Draco’s neck and shoulders. Draco sucked Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth, earning him a moan from Harry, his fingers fluttering against the nape of Draco’s neck. Draco couldn’t help but smirk, feeling accomplished as he reached out and twisted a hand in Harry’s jumper, pulling him deeper into the kiss. 

It felt as though they kissed for hours, Draco’s lips feeling swollen and almost numb from the slick press of Harry’s mouth. It was nothing like any kiss Draco had ever had before.

When they finally parted, Harry let out a huff of laughter. Draco pushed Harry away with the hand on his chest, “What is it now? What’s so funny, Potter?”

Harry was grinning as he laughed, his lips flushed from all their kissing, his jumper rumpled from where Draco had been clutching it. “We - we kissed because our owls are fucking. Our first kiss together happened because I caught our birds having sex.”

Draco attempted to give Harry a look of distaste, about to chastise him for acting like such a child. But instead, Draco found himself laughing too. 

They found themselves laughing together, stomachs clenching and tears prickling at the corner of Harry’s eyes.

They found themselves leaning into one another.

Then Draco found himself pulling Harry in for just one more kiss.

And a half hour later, Draco found himself arriving late to assist with Professor Amordee’s Potions course, his hair mussed and shirt untucked.

****

Harry quickly found himself spending all of his free time in the owlrey.

Whether he was sending and receiving Draco’s mail, or kissing Draco senseless, Harry was finding every excuse to be up in the old owlrey. 

One Friday evening, Harry was sitting on a windowsill in the Gryffindor common room, fiddling with the page of his Transfiguration textbook and not processing a single word on the page. He let out a deep breath, glancing around the nearly-empty common room, everyone gone to Hogsmeade or down in the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had invited Harry to join them at The Three Broomsticks, but Harry got the impression that he would be interrupting, so he decided to stay back. 

The crackling of the fire would typically have lulled Harry into an evening nap, but tonight it was setting his teeth on edge. He glanced at his watch before slamming his book shut. Even if Draco wasn’t in the owlrey, anywhere sounded better than sitting by himself in that giant room. Harry glanced down at himself, considering whether he should put on something a bit nicer, but he decided against it, grabbing his wand and stuffing it into the pocket of his denims before heading out into the castle. 

Harry practically ran to the old owlrey, feeling the rush of cool November air against his skin, mussing his hair and sending a cascade of chills from his neck to his fingertips. It reminded him of flying. There was something indescribable about the rushing wind when he was soaring through the air on his broom. Running was the closest thing to flying Harry had ever found. Lungs burning and heart pounding, Harry took the steps to the owlrey two at a time.

When Harry stepped inside, he nearly fell flat on his face, his steps faltering when his gaze landed on Draco. Harry felt a flush spreading over his face. 

For a moment, Harry forgot that his side was cramping, forgot that the hollow of his throat was slick with sweat, he nearly forgot his own name. 

Draco was leaned back against the wall opposite Harry, his trousers unbuttoned and pushed down, a long-fingered hand wrapped around his hard cock. Draco’s hair was falling in his face as he stroked himself, and when he glanced up at Harry from beneath his fringe, his grey eyes were darker than Harry had ever seen them, the pupils blown, his mouth open in a breathless moan. 

Harry couldn’t breathe. 

Yet, Harry found himself walking toward Draco, his scuffed-up trainers carrying him closer and closer until he could see every twist of Draco’s wrist and swipe of his fingers over his cock. His cock was long and slender, the skin was deeply flushed, a sharp contrast to the marble white of the rest of Draco’s skin. He was cut, unlike Harry, the head prominent and smooth. He looked delectable. Harry’s legs shook and he licked his lips, shifting his footing to try and steady himself. 

He had the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and find out if Draco’s cock tasted as good as it looked. 

“Touch me.” 

Draco’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. It sounded as though he hadn’t spoken in days, the muscles of his abdomen visibly clenching as he let go of his own cock, gazing at Harry with fire in his eyes, pleading Harry without using words.

Harry’s cock throbbed in his trousers as he reached out a hand and ran his finger lightly over Draco’s length. It was unbelievably warm, the rosy head even softer than Harry had imagined. It was velvety smooth and so very… _alive_. Draco let out a moan of approval when Harry stepped even closer, wrapping his fingers fully around Draco’s cock. 

Harry couldn’t figure out how to move his hand, his wrist twisting awkwardly as he tried to imitate the slow strokes he had seen Draco using before. After switching his grip a number of times, his elbow bumping against Draco’s side as he attempted to find a comfortable way to move, Draco spoke, “Why don’t you try something else instead?”

“Something else?” Harry let out the breath he had been holding, his glasses blurring for a moment from the heat. “Could I - Can I use my mouth?”

Draco’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in a soft, “Oh.” Harry simply stared back at him, unsure whether that was an affirming response or not. Just as Harry was about to step away, Draco blurted out his true answer in a rush, “Yes. Yeah, of course. You can absolutely do that.”

A smile pulled at Harry’s lips as he took in Draco’s words, “Right then. I think I’ll do that now.”

Harry shifted with little grace down onto his knees, now at eye level with Draco’s cock. His mouth watered and he reached up to remove his glasses. He held them out to Draco, “Hold these, will you?”

“Aren’t you practically blind? I don’t want you biting my prick off.”

“I’m not going to bite it, you git! I’m offering you a blow job. So just hold my glasses and shut up.” Harry didn’t wait for Draco to reply, instead he placed one hand on Draco’s bare hip, and wrapped the other back around Draco’s cock, moving his hand down to the base and then taking the flushed head into his mouth. He ran his lips wetly over the head, kissing and licking as he went, tracing his tongue over the slit and under the crown, his eyes closed and his mouth guiding him. 

Harry delighted in the whines and gasps that he heard coming from above him. He moved his mouth a bit further down on Draco’s cock, his jaw stretched to accommodate him, the weight of Draco’s length heavy on his tongue. He felt his mouth filling with saliva, but he had no intention of pulling off, so he swallowed instead. Above him, Draco let out a curse, his cock twitching inside Harry’s mouth. 

Eventually Draco’s free hand found its way into Harry’s hair, his grip tightening and letting go periodically, every sound that fell from his parted lips spurring Harry on. While Harry had felt unsure and awkward trying to wank Draco, there was something about having a cock in his mouth that felt so natural. He felt comfortable on his knees, all of his attention focused on Draco, all of his senses tuned in to Draco’s moans and touches, to the way Draco’s cock dripped precome into his mouth when he swallowed, to the way that Harry could feel Draco’s whole body quivering every time he moved. 

Harry was entranced, now sucking gently on the head of Draco’s cock while he felt Draco’s grip tighten harshly in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. It was a pleasurable pain that made the hairs stand up on Harry’s arms, a swooping sensation in his stomach reminding him of the times he had dived for the Snitch during a Quidditch match, his insides flipping during the freefall. 

Above him, Draco was swearing. Insults and affirmations pouring out of him in a never-ending stream, his grip on Harry’s messy hair unyielding. “Fuck you, you fucking arsehole, shit shit shitttt, I fucking hate y - yes, _Harry,_ bloody fucking -”

When Draco came, he didn't give Harry any warning, his come thickly coating Harry’s tongue and the back of his throat, his cock pulsing against Harry’s palate. Harry tried to swallow it all down, coughing slightly as he finally pulled off. 

Once Harry let go of Draco’s cock and hip, he slumped down onto the floor of the owlrey, his spit-slick cock going soft against his trousers. 

“Fucking hell, Potter.”

Harry let out a laugh, wiping the sleeve of his jumper over his mouth and grabbing his glasses back from Draco. “You can call me Harry, you know. I heard you say it while I was blowing you.”

“Well, I was clearly not in my right mind when I called you that,” Draco replied, and Harry could see heat spreading across Draco’s high cheekbones.

“Are you complimenting my blow job skills?”

Draco pushed Harry away, nearly knocking him over as Harry cackled. Harry fought back. And before he knew it, Draco had pushed his hand down the front of Harry’s denims, wanking him with a firm hand until Harry came. 

The rest of the world was long forgotten.

****

“We should do that everyday,” Harry said, his head still spinning from the feeling of Draco’s hand on his cock.

“Yeah, okay,” Draco yawned. 

Off to their left, Harry heard the soft hoot of an owl. He turned toward the sound, expecting to see Cathal or Nathalie. Instead, Harry came eye-to-eye with a tiny grey owl, its wide blue eyes practically larger than its head. 

“Oi! Was this owl here the whole time?”

Draco turned and let out a small laugh, “It must have been. I saw her when I first came up here.”

“Who’s is she?” 

“I don’t think she’s a post owl. She’s so small, I doubt she could actually carry a scroll of parchment.”

Harry let out a hum, and sat up, holding out a hand toward the owl. “C’mere, girl.”

Draco smacked Harry’s shoulder, “What are you doing? What if she’s got some horrible disease?”

It took a lot of strength for Harry to resist rolling his eyes, “I’m sure she’s fine, Draco. She probably lives in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe she came looking for somewhere safe to hide.”

Draco huffed and did up his trousers, looking at Harry with disapproval as the bird flew onto his outstretched hand. “Only _you_ would come up with a dramatic sob story for a fucking owl.”

“Hush, you.” Harry stroked a finger over the owl’s back, “She’s a beautiful little thing, and apparently quite the voyeur too.”

“Voyeur.”

Harry glanced at Draco, “Yes. She watched us have sex for at least an hour.”

Draco scowled at Harry, reaching out to pet gently over the owl’s head, her large eyes closing at his touch, “I know what a voyeur is, you numpty. I think that’s what we should name her.”

“You want to name her Voyeur?”

“Vee for short,” Draco added.

Harry suppressed a grin, watching as Vee flew over to Draco’s knee, her blue eyes blinking up at Draco with nothing short of admiration. “Yeah, okay.”

****

Draco’s life suddenly became centered around a puny little bird, and he wasn’t upset about it in the least. Harry and Draco continued to meet in the old owlrey whenever they could, whether to chat, to study, to kiss, or to fuck. The owlrey became their hideout. Cathal and Nathalie were less than pleased when Draco first introduced them to Vee, but they quickly warmed up to her.

The five of them fit perfectly together. They fought constantly, but somehow they just...worked.

****

It was the last day of exams, and the castle was buzzing with nervous energy, a feverish sort of hope hovering just below the surface, the summer holidays just mere hours away.

Harry was up in the owlrey with a satchel full of teacups he had nicked from the kitchens. He was practicing for his Transfiguration practical, turning teacups into vases full of flowers. He had been up for hours, trying to perfect his technique. It seemed that every time he tried the spell, something small would be off. Whether it was a teacup handle on the outside of the vase, or the flowers actually being a bouquet of miniscule teacups, Harry was struggling to get it right.

“You need to relax your shoulders, and try moving your wand in two and a half circles instead of just two.”

Harry looked up, his eyes running over Draco’s slim form. He was leaning against the doorway of the owlrey, clad in a pair of black trousers and a plain grey v-neck, the short sleeves of the shirt showing off the toned muscles on his arms. 

“Show me.”

Draco walked over until he stood behind Harry. He pressed his hands on Harry’s shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the tense muscles there. Harry relaxed at Draco’s touch, the stress easing out of him. “Now, try the spell,” Draco whispered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck as he spoke. 

Harry concentrated and then cast the spell, making sure to add in an extra half-turn. The garish pink teacup on the floor in front of him transformed into a tall silver vase, a bouquet of red roses bursting out of it beautifully, no extra handles or teacup-flowers in sight. 

“Very good, Harry,” Draco smiled into his neck and Harry felt his heart jump at Draco’s praise, pleasure swelling inside his chest. “For future reference, I prefer calla lilies over roses.” 

With a flick of his wand, calla lilies appeared in the vase instead. Harry was rewarded with far more than just a kiss.

****

“Your mother wrote,” Harry said as he handed Draco a letter. They were laying out in the grass near the Black Lake, hidden from view by a large tree. Most of the students were inside the castle frantically packing for summer hols.

Draco took the letter from Harry, “I can’t believe my own owl still hates me!”

Harry smirked over at Draco, “She doesn’t hate you, she just likes me better. _Much_ better.”

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“My arse is still pretty sore from last night, but maybe - ” 

Draco shut Harry up with a kiss. 

When they parted, Harry gazed out over the lake, feeling a mixture of emotions stirring inside him. 

“You can always come back, you know,” Draco said. Harry turned toward him and nodded, but his heart still felt heavy, his breathing becoming shallow, anxious thoughts spinning in his mind. “This...This isn’t the last time.”

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, “Are you talking about Hogwarts or us?”

Draco looked at Harry, his gaze steady, his words sure, “ _Both._ ”

****

After exams, Harry and Draco moved into a flat together in Brighton.

They grabbed drinks at the local pub, bought bread at a bakery across town because it was simply better than the other twenty bakeries near their place, and Draco berated Harry for his rock-throwing skills whenever they walked along the waterfront. 

A month after moving in, Harry woke up to find Draco lounging in an armchair in their front room, reading a novel in his pajamas, a pair of glasses sliding down his nose while Vee sat on his shoulder, her clear blue eyes fixed on the book as if she was reading as well. 

Draco didn’t even look up from his book as he spoke, “Morning, Scarhead. I’m Vee’s favorite.”

Harry smiled and went to make a pot of coffee.

His heart felt lighter than it had in years.

****


End file.
